


Found Hope In Those Dirty Back Streets

by Antarc



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: (both consensual and nonconsensual), Alternate Universe - Cyberpunk, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, BAMF Steve Harrington, Body Modification, M/M, Nurse!Steve, fighter!Billy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-15 21:09:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28570548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Antarc/pseuds/Antarc
Summary: "i wish you would write a cyberpunk (the genre, not the game) harringrove au."Courtesy of gideongrace looking right into my brain apparently.Steve patches up people. He's seen Billy numerous times after his fights. This time, he's the one who fights for Billy.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 8
Kudos: 79





	Found Hope In Those Dirty Back Streets

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't decide if this warrants a Mature rating, since all the violence is just mentioned and all the gory stuff is implied/non-graphic?? I guess there's some swearing. Hmm. 
> 
> (Big inspo for nurse!Steve came from inkedplume's posts and then amalgamated into this fic, which spawned like ten more headcanons for this AU that wouldn't have fit into this story. Sci-fi is fun.)

Steve drags Billy out of the burning laboratory kicking and screaming. Even with sedatives slowing Billy’s movement and enhancers flowing through Steve’s veins, Billy is still a heavy, unwieldy weight in his arms. “Fucking hell, just move your legs,” Steve curses.

Blue-grey plumes of smoke follow them out of windows and doors into the street and an acrid stench of burning chemicals and plastic fills the air.

He doesn’t look back. The building creaks as its walls start to cave under its weight and in the distance there’s the sound of approaching sirens. “Please,” Billy begs in his ear, incoherent and in pain.

Bathed in blood-red and cyan glow, Steve stubbornly trudges on. Into back streets where the lights shine just as bright, but the shadows are darker. 

Until even the intensely illuminated store fronts dwindle to nothing and he reaches a dingy, trash filled alley where the backs of two massive residential houses almost lean against each other. 

It has just enough room to hide the car. The one Steve took when Billy vanished.

Suddenly, Billy slumps in his arms and his body goes limp. A shot of pure panic pulses through Steve, but there’s no time to properly check on him.

All he can do is shove Billy into the backseat, handcuff him to the door and allow himself a second to check his pulse before he’s behind the wheel. The car purrs to life, a delight to handle even in such a dire situation.

Steve drives.

~*~

It’s in the early morning hours when they meet for the first time- The year before, at the end of a grueling shift of back-to-back operations that Dustin needed Steve’s assistance with. While Steve finishes up with what was supposed to be their final patient of the night before the shift change, someone stumbles through the front doors of their tiny praxis that calls itself a ‘clinic’.

There’s no such thing as a _real_ clinic in their entire district. Just tiny hole in the wall places like theirs, barely keeping afloat, lucky to have a doctor and a nurse on hand at the same time.

Steve hands the girl in front of him a pack of painkillers and sends her off, follows after her as she hurries outside. Barely eighteen and finally free of the tracking chip her parents installed when she was a child.

What they do isn’t strictly illegal. They’ve got the consent forms to prove they’re not removing any chips from people’s brains without permission.  
They also don’t ask a lot of questions or document too much. Like where those chips come from. Why their patients want them gone. 

That’s not what the guy in front of their tiny reception is in for, Steve guesses. The hair at the back of his head is cropped short, with geometric shapes shaved into the sides and the top covered in blonde waves. 

Thick, muscular arms covered in swirling tattoos and scars peek out of a dark, sleeveless shirt and lean heavily against the reception desk.

He’s dripping blood onto the floor.

Steve sighs. A fighter. 

When he steps behind the desk to pull up their admittance form for regular patients, he does his very best to scrounge up the last dregs of professional friendliness he can. “Welcome. What are you here for?”

Internally he winces at himself. His tone is okay, but there’s no energy left for anything but the barebones of customer service. Then he looks up.

Despite half of the guy’s face being a massive bruise, the blood caked to his forehead, his ripped open knuckles _right in front of Steve on the desk_ \- despite all the signs that this guy is tough, despite the air of ‘you should see the other guy’ emanating from him- he smiles. And he’s beautiful.

“Oh, I’m here for you, pretty boy.” It shouldn’t work. It really shouldn’t make Steve blush when he feels like hell warmed over, hair matted with sweat, pale skin a stark contrast to the dark circles under his eyes. He tucks a strand of hair behind his ear. And he smiles back.

~*~

In the backseat, he hears Billy come to with a groan.

It’s so different compared to all the times they’ve shared this space before. 

All the nights they’ve spent on that same seat drunkenly making out while the car drove them to Billy’s place on autopilot. All the weekend trips to spend mini vacations in fancy hotel rooms Steve never dared to ask Billy how he could afford them.

It’s better not to ask questions. That’s been his mantra for their entire relationship. He regrets it now.

“Where am I- _Steve?_ ” Billy slurs, clearly still fighting against the drugs in his system. Steve can feel his jaw clench. His right eye socket aches, static having entered his vision in the past hour. 

“Yup, me. Care to explain how fucking Mindflayer Corp got their hands on you?” The static becomes more pronounced the more agitated he gets. Fuck. He’s still got at least an hour to drive and the enhancers are already wearing off.

Billy’s eyes close in defeat. His head sinks back. Like he doesn’t even have the energy in him to deny or argue. 

“Someone bet on me losing. I was supposed to lose.” He audibly swallows. When he speaks again, there’s that familiar fire in his voice. “No one tells me what to do. And I don’t lose.”

“I thought you weren’t involved in those kinda bets.” So maybe Steve isn’t completely clueless. Doesn’t mean he actively wants to think about what Billy does to get more money than a regular mechanic should make.

“Yeah, well. Someone didn’t give me the memo that I was ‘in breach of contract’ or some shit. Not like I actually signed anything.” Billy growls out the last part, clearly pissed off.

“So they seized you. As collateral,” Steve finishes for him. Fucking figures.

There wasn’t much time to check, but he’s sure the wound at the back of Billy’s head where his brain stem should be is a big indicator of what they already put in him. He hopes that the blocker he’s brought with him is strong enough against whatever zombiefying signal the Mindflayer chip is supposed to receive.

Even with his limbs starting to shake and his headache getting stronger every minute, he can’t risk changing the car to autopilot. No way in hell is he gonna risk them getting caught so close to the finish line.

The streets fly by in a blur. He breathes through the pain in his head and tries to concentrate on keeping his driving inconspicuous. 

“How’s your eye doing?” Billy finally breaks the silence that’s stretched between them. “I’m guessing that’s how you broke me out?”

Steve huffs out a laugh. “Yup. That and all the fire accelerant and enhancers Dustin loaded me up with.”

“Can’t believe he talked you into getting that eye.” It’s a familiar argument they’ve had these past months, all the way through the injury, the talking through options with Dustin and the lead-up to the surgery.

The thing is, out of all the people installing body mods, Dustin is the very first one Steve would have gone to anyways. He has seen firsthand what he can do. There’s few things Steve has much hope for, but he knows with complete certainty that what Dustin and Robin are doing is going to change the world.

Of course, he can’t tell Billy that. Especially now, when he might have their biggest adversary in his head, listening in. Lying in wait.

So all he says is a forcibly cheerful “He sure did!” and lets silence descend on them again.

~*~

The arrival at the clinic is a blur of a haphazardly parked car and dragging Billy’s resistant body all the way to the back. Getting an elbow to his solar plexus even as he hears Billy apologize profusely. His head and vision a mess as he sinks to the floor outside their tiny surgery, dimly aware of Joyce and Robin strapping Billy in so they can remove the chip.

Dustin once said that the beauty and simplicity of his device was born out of the scarcity they’ve been surrounded by all their lives.

Even as he hears Billy scream, he desperately hopes that his trust in his friends hasn’t been unfounded. He can’t lose him. Not like this. 

Darkness licks at his consciousness.

~*~

There’s a high rise called The Garden that’s overgrown with foliage. No one knows how it’s still standing, how its walls can carry all that weight of earth and plants, but it’s a beacon of beauty in a city where gardens, let alone parks, are reserved for the ultra rich.

It’s where Steve loves to go for many of their lunch dates- but it’s their very first one that’s especially burned into his mind. Billy’s bruised skin, already healing from a booster shot he got who knows from, glows golden in sunlight.

Distantly, Steve thinks that Billy would look amazing on a beach. Glistening with saltwater in the sun, all of his gorgeous body on display. Demonstrating his strength by throwing Steve over his shoulders to chuck him into the water. Hmm.

“What are you thinking about?” Billy’s amused voice rips Steve from his daydream. God, he’s still out of it from lack of sleep. 

“You.” And his brain to mouth filter is clearly offline as well, holy shit. 

Once again, Billy surprises him in that moment. Because he blushes, a small, pleased grin on his lips. “Good,” he says softly. Takes Steve’s hand in his and kisses him. Quick and sweet, making a whole swarm of butterflies flutter in his belly. 

Down below, through the rustling of leaves, the sound of traffic and sirens filters up. Steve feels like he could float away from it all if he wasn’t still holding onto Billy’s hand.

~*~

Consciousness comes to him slowly. There’s the familiar smell of antiseptic, the barely comfortable mattress of their secondhand hospital bed underneath him. An equally familiar, warm hand holding his.

Billy’s on his left side. 'Where the heart is.' he likes to say when they sit or sleep together, like the not-so-secret sap he is. He looks just as tired as Steve feels.

“Hey,” he croaks. “Fancy meeting you here.” There’s that fuzzy, floaty feeling he gets when Dustin gives him the good painkillers. Adjusting to an entirely new eye can lead to some surprisingly intense migraines.

But that’s not what he’s here for. Or is it? He frowns. Then he gets distracted by Billy’s pretty eyes. The freckles on his nose. The scar through his eyebrow. A sudden urge to touch it makes him lift his hand so he can cradle Billy’s face and trace the shape of his eyebrow. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs. “How do I deserve you?”

Billy’s eyes close. He frowns. “’m pretty sure that’s my line,” he says, voice rough. “Can’t believe you had to come and rescue me.”

He leans forward, all the way until his forehead touches Steve’s. “Thank you,” he presses a kiss to his lips, “for coming for me.”


End file.
